


Glazed Donuts and Black Coffee

by MadKingV3rn0n



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mall Employees, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:50:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3418247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadKingV3rn0n/pseuds/MadKingV3rn0n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes glazed donuts and black coffee are the only peace offerings you need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glazed Donuts and Black Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brice_Gottlieb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brice_Gottlieb/gifts).



> Sarge is a recently discharged army sergeant working in a jewelry store in a mall and Donut is an employee at Dunkin' Donuts at the same mall.

They meet each other on the bus. It’s an early Saturday morning and the route #2 bus from Florence Avenue to Washington Street with stops at the local mall is packed with people heading to work. Former decorated sergeant Emmett Sanderson sits among a vast variety of people and he sighs in irritation; they’re annoying him. Each and every single person on that bus is annoying him in some way or another, especially the tall, young man blaring punk music in the seat across him. The man is skinny and dressed in tan slacks and a white, elbow length pressed shirt but what annoys Sarge the most is the man’s hair. The man’s hair was bleach blonde and cut into a stylish Mohawk, parts of the hair dyed various colors; it was too damn bright.

“Next stop, Blood Gultch Mall.” Sarge’s stop. He gathers his blazer and moves to stand up when much to his dismay, the man with the painfully bright hair, stands up as well. They knock into one another while the other man reaches under his seat to retrieve his backpack.

“Watch where you’re going, dirtbag!” Barks Sarge, dusting nonexistent dirt off of his blazer. He’s aware that everyone else on the bus is looking at them but he doesn’t care, he’s a veteran for god’s sake, doesn’t anyone have any respect anymore?

The man looked at Sarge incredulously and just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Take it easy, grandpa, no need to have a coronary.” His tone is sarcastic and slightly lisped, a metallic tongue ring clicking against his straight white teeth.

Sarge just huffs and moves to get off the bus, his cheeks only slightly flushed from the heat, or at least that’s what he tells himself. He quickly walks the short distance to the mall’s front entrance and doesn’t even glance at the bright haired man behind him, out of sight out of mind. Yeah, he just needs to keep telling himself that.

 

The work day goes by slowly, so slowly that Sarge could feel himself physically aging. It was only three in the afternoon and yet it felt as if he had been in the small jewelry store for at least a millennia. He had a few walk-ins so far, peering into the glass jewelry cabinets with curiosity, but so far no legitimate, paying customers. He was disappointed by the lack of customers but his mind was more preoccupied with a certain punk looking kid, a punk looking kid that couldn’t be a day over twenty three. He’s only half-heartily cleaning the pristine glass cases when a small, uncertain voice breaks his concentration.

“Knock, knock?”

Immediately Sarge straightened up in surprise and immediately Sarge wanted to shoot himself in the foot, he was acting like a damn teenage fool! “What do you want?” says Sarge gruffly, hoping that his tanned cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

The man stood awkwardly on the blue carpet of the jewelry store, swaying from foot to foot in uncertainty. He’s wearing a brown _Dunkin’ Donuts_ apron and in the uniform he looks even younger. Sarge tries desperately not to think about how cute he looks. He’s forty eight years old goddammit, he should _not_ be thinking that a twenty-something year old kid with bright, tacky hair is _cute_. Cute shouldn’t even be in his vocabulary!

He holds out a cup of coffee and a white bag as a sort of peace offering, “I just wanted to apologize for being a dick on the bus, that wasn’t cool of me.” He extends the cup and the bag toward Sarge with a smile, “I hope you like doughnuts!”

Sarge takes the items slowly and wearily, unsure of what to say. A feeling of immense guilt passes over him, a feeling that he had not felt in a very long time. “I-I didn’t mean to be so harsh,” admits Sarge, his voice reflecting how uncertain that he felt. “I’m just used to talking to my men like that, going back to civilian life hasn’t been easy.” He blushes again, he hadn’t meant to overshare.

The man, however, just smiled with understanding and nodded, “Adjustment can be difficult.” It looks like he wants to say more but he doesn’t. Instead he just turns away and says, “I hope you like the doughnuts.”

Sarge isn’t sure why but he finds himself saying after the man, “Let me take you to dinner.”

The boy turns around in surprise, his perfectly manicured brow raised in question, “Dinner?”

“Um yeah, to apologize,” he’s acting like a complete girl right now and he was positive that his cheeks were on fire but he couldn’t help but feel like he had to make it up with the other man, they had to be even.

It seems as if the other man is going to disagree when a large grin stretches across his pale skin. He pulls out a small, short order notebook and quickly writes down a series of numbers and a note. He hands it to Sarge and smirks, “Call me sometime.” Sarge can only watch in shock, his mouth agape.

After the man is gone, Sarge looks down at the note and smirks. In loopy, feminine handwritten is a phone number and the words, “Just call me Donut”. He instantly knew that he was in a world of trouble but he couldn’t find it in him to be bothered. Maybe civilian life wouldn’t be that bad afterall.


End file.
